Open Hands and Broken Glass
by UnityGhost
Summary: Set between 13x17 ("The Thing") and 13x18 ("Bring 'Em Back Alive"), this story offers a glimpse of Sam's attempts to get through to Gabriel after his rescue from Asmodeus. Contains an abundance hurt/comfort, because I can never resist reading that genre myself.


Notes: This is a coda fix to 13x17 ("The Thing"). It's one of my favorite episodes and hits me on a visceral level. Watching the entire ordeal with Gabriel was both supremely difficult and deeply fascinating. So here is an extension that takes place after the end of the episode, but before 13x18 ("Bring 'Em Back Alive").

Disclaimer: The material upon which the following story is based is the intellectual property of the CW network.

Open Hands and Broken Glass

"What can I do?"

Although Sam wasn't surprised Gabriel didn't answer him, he still felt disappointed. Disappointed and frustrated. Whether he was upset with Gabriel, or Asmodeus, or himself, he couldn't quite determine.

Sam watched the archangel, whose head was lowered into the pillow he'd seized when Sam guided him onto the bed. His back was pressed to the headboard, his legs pulled up so that his knees were hidden by the pillow. Sam could see flakes of stale blood on the white fabric.

Sam sighed. "I can't help unless you tell me what you need. I'm not gonna punish you if you talk. Like - do you want food, or water, or a shower, or what?" He glanced at the pillow in Gabriel's arms. "To sleep, maybe? You can take the bed." He made a half-hearted attempt to smile. "We've got plenty of those."

When Gabriel gave no indication that he had heard, the smile faded. "Man - I'm not gonna hurt you. At least look up at me."

He was alarmed when Gabriel slowly lifted his head from the pillow.

This time Sam's smile was genuine. "That's it. Gabriel, I - "

But Gabriel's face was lit with terror, and Sam realized that he'd only followed the instruction because he expected repercussions if he refused. Sam made a mental note to phrase his invitations as questions, not demands.

"It's okay," said Sam. "You can put your face back in the pillow if you want."

Sam thought he saw a spark of confusion in Gabriel's eyes. The angel held his pillow more tightly but didn't attempt to hide behind it.

"Can you talk?" Sam asked, expecting nothing; but, mouth locked shut despite the removal of the stitches binding his lips, Gabriel gave a panicked whimper and shook his head.

"What about fresh air?" Sam pressed. "I can take you outside."

Again Gabriel offered a strangled cry in response. Sam could understand how the open world might be intimidating, even threatening, after so many centuries in the dark.

"Well," Sam went on, "I'd leave you alone, but I kinda feel like that might be a bad idea. Not because I want to hurt you," he added hastily as fear colored Gabriel's face again, "But just … because it's easy to get lost in your ow head. Even for an angel."

Gabriel kept his eyes fixated on Sam. His hoarse breathing frosted the silence that followed.

"All right," Sam said at last, "Here's what I'm gonna do. Let me get you some water, okay? I'll be right back."

By the time Sam returned, Gabriel hadn't shifted an inch. Sam offered him the glass, but Gabriel only stared at it as if he he expected Sam to use it as a weapon.

Instead of insisting, Sam set the water on the nightstand. "It's there. Okay? But you don't have to drink it."

Gabriel swallowed.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "This is weird. You … being like this, you know? He messed you up pretty bad."

Gabriel merely continued to watch him, although Sam thought - or imagined - that he appeared a little less afraid.

Then, slowly, carefully, and without taking his eyes off of Sam, Gabriel reached to the side and lifted the cup of water. But his hand trembled so violently that the glass immediately fell, shattering on the floor.

Gabriel looked down at the mess in horror, then turned terrified eyes to Sam.

Sam was quick to reassure him. "I'm not mad! You didn't do anything wrong." He paused, then added, "Even if you had, it'd still be okay. You won't get punished. You're not gonna get beaten or - or whatever else he did to you. Look - " He took a few steps back from the bed, hoping that Gabriel might accept that no one was going to touch him - not unless he gave some indication that it was all right.

"Can you stay there?" Sam asked, deliberately framing the request as optional. "So you don't get caught in the glass? You're cut up enough as is, so … if you get skittish, maybe make sure you don't jump off that side?" He tried to smile, but again, it fell flat.

Gabriel looked down at the shards spread over the bare floor, hands clutching his knees, body quaking as though the room was too cool.

"Gabriel," said Sam, "You look like you've lost a lot of weight. Are you cold? I can get you a blanket. Or you can just…" He gestured. "… slide under the covers."

Gabriel raised his eyes to Sam, and something changed. He didn't stop shaking, and his breathing was quick and heavy. His lips were still clamped together, his posture tight and unyielding. But his eyes - they were different now. Had it been the offer of warmth? Of physical comfort? The idea that it was possible to be somewhere that wasn't thick with torture and death?

Sam dared not move towards the bed, but he knew he could hardly just stand there and let Gabriel choke on his own stifled sobs. "Hey," he said, trying to speak as quietly as possible and still be heard. "I can stay here, or I can come over to you. Whatever you want. I'd like to sit with you. Can I sit with you?"

Gabriel had turned away from him again, crying into his knees.

Sam took a few experimental steps towards him, and when Gabriel didn't immediately react, he kept going. Finally, he reached the bed and gingerly lowered himself onto it, keeping several inches between himself and the angel.

"I'm next to you," Sam informed him. "Look, Gabriel, here's my hand." He held it out. "You see it?"

Through suppressed tears, Gabriel looked at Sam's hand. He glanced up, trying to read Sam's face, and then back down again.

Lowering his head once more, Gabriel rested his fingers on Sam's palm, and Sam gently enveloped them. Then he put his other hand on top, offering extra warmth, extra weight.

"So you're away from that place," Sam remarked. "Eventually that will feel like a good thing. I remember Lucifer turning everything I'd ever known into illusions. Making me think I'd escaped. And I couldn't - " He swallowed as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. "There was no way I would've thought anything that felt safe was really safe. No way. I didn't think so for a long time. And it sucked. So I get it."

Gabriel began to cry more forcefully, still holding his face against his knees but allowing Sam to maintain his grip. In the span of a few seconds he broke into a series of half-sobs, half-screams, and began to breathe in deep, uneven gasps for air.

"Okay, yeah," said Sam, tempted to let go of Gabriel's hand and hold him steady. Had it not been for his near certainty that Gabriel would answer new touch with horror, he would have acted on the inclination. "Don't make yourself sick, all right? You've got to try and breathe normally. Just give it a shot."

Either Gabriel hadn't heard him, or refused to try, or couldn't accomplish it. His frantic gasping turned to violent coughing and, overcome by instinct, Sam raised both hands to Gabriel's shoulders.

Sure enough, Gabriel flinched; but before he could offer any real resistance, he bent double and began to choke.

"Whoa, okay, okay!" Sam cried, bracing one hand on Gabriel's chest and the other on his upper arm. "Calm down. You're gonna be fine. Just calm down."

But Gabriel heaved a mouthful of bile into the pile of glass, lacing it with a repulsive shade of yellow-green.

"Gabriel - " Sam started, but Gabriel retched so violently that he almost jerked out of Sam's grasp.

Sam grimaced, tensing as the ugly sound began to turn his own stomach. "All right, well, if you need to, I guess just let it out."

There was about a minute more of gagging and spitting before Gabriel began to breathe more evenly.

"All right." Sam pulled him back into a proper sitting position. "All right, you know what? Lie down for a minute." He realized he'd forgotten to make himself sound less authoritarian, but Gabriel had lost enough strength that he collapsed onto the discarded pillow without further encouragement. Looking at his gray face, stained with tears and blood, Sam's throat tightened. That spasm of sickness had been the first time Gabriel had opened his mouth since having the stitches cut away.

"Gonna get some more water for you," Sam muttered, not sure what else he could do to pull Gabriel out of this.

The second time he brought water in, with Gabriel keeping track of his every move, he said, "I can help you drink some of it. I'm going to hold it out to you - I'm not gonna do anything with it except put it to your mouth so you can drink a little bit. All right? Is that okay?"

Gabriel stared at him, but didn't protest, so Sam lifted the glass to his lips. This time, Gabriel didn't react to the contact, perhaps because he'd been warned to expect it. He managed the tiniest of sips before coughing and spilling water down his chin and his filthy tunic.

"Okay," said Sam, withdrawing the glass. "You want any more?"

When he pressed the glass to Gabriel's mouth again, the angel was a little steadier. As soon as he was finished, Gabriel looked down at himself, examining the water mixed in with the grime.

"Okay," Sam repeated, setting water glass back on the table. "If you want to drink it yourself, that's fine. Don't worry about breaking it."

Gabriel looked up at him.

"Or I can get it for you," Sam added, trying once more to offer something like a smile. With the amount of effort it took, he feared his twisted features might scare Gabriel more than if he let his own distress remain obvious. "Whatever you want. No need to talk. I …" He thought for a moment, then backed himself into the wall across from Gabriel's bed, sliding down so that there was some distance between the two of them and he appeared a little less imposing. "I don't want to leave you by yourself, so I'm just going to stay here. See, look - no one's touching you. You need something, you just … find a way to let me know."

Gabriel replied with an almost inaudible moan.

Sam got back to his feet and leaned closer, concerned. "What?"

Gabriel surprised him when, rather than waiting for Sam to initiate contact, he reached out himself. Sam glanced down at the blackened fingers stretched towards him, wondering if Gabriel might change his mind.

But he didn't. And so Sam moved forward and took the extended hand. He was surprised by how warm it felt; maybe Gabriel wasn't cold after all. That was when Sam noticed the absence of a tremor, noticed that Gabriel was the calmest he'd been since first entering the room.

Suddenly, Sam realized what was going on. "You thought I was going to get angry with you. Not just the glass. Everything." The crying, the sickness. "Or you thought I was going to laugh at you."

Gabriel placed his other hand on top, mimicking Sam's actions from earlier. Sam took that as confirmation.

Now that no one was screaming at him, attacking him, making fun of him, something in Gabriel had shifted.

Without releasing the hand sandwiched between both of Gabriel's, Sam took a seat beside him, then hesitated before speaking. "Gabriel, you can tease me about this later. I don't know if it's the right thing to do. But I'm here and I think maybe you need it, so - " Sam slid his hand out of Gabriel's, and - before Gabriel could react - pressed him into a gentle hug.

"Good to have you back," Sam told him, voice cracking.

When the archangel returned the embrace, Sam could almost believe that Gabriel was glad too.


End file.
